it’s a vibe

[love-the-person-you-are]

“I wanted to say “don’t leave me” but I couldn’t do it, not again. I was so tired of begging people to love me.”

— Kristin Hannah

[s-unberry]

“Can someone just love me as much as I fucking love them?”

— (via s-unberry)

[lumineers]

[ibelongwith-you]

[sarahdaniellem]

[remanence-of-love]

[missinyouiskillingme]

Sometimes all you can do is lie in bed and hope to fall asleep before you fall apart.

— William C. Hannan

[noname-404s-blog]

"Healing is messy" 😢 I know it 😔

[miss-americanbi]

how the absolute FUCK am i supposed to live long and prosper in these conditions

[euesworld]

"I'll choose you until I can't choose anymore, I'll always choose you.. over and over and over again, it's you, it's always been you. It will always be you cause I could never see myself choose anyone else.."

I will love you until every star dies in the universe - eUë

[writtenbytlm]

I refuse to believe what we had was love.

You don’t drop the people that you love,

And you fucking threw me to the ground.

— written by tlm

[conscious-love]

Don’t let the concept of change scare you as much as the prospect of remaining unhappy.

Timber Hawkeye

[beautifulsadness91]

Nothing changes. It’s just the same shit over and over and over and over and over.

[inherthought]

I hate how you made me question myself when the problem was you all along.

[beautifulsadness91]

When will I stop expecting people to love and care for me as much as I do them?

[dilemmaq]

I'm so tired. I just cant do anything anymore, my motivation and energy are gone.

[ninasdrafts]

“I wonder when exactly it happened. When the cracks in the foundation turned into something we could no longer bridge with words or actions. When we started doing the bare minimum for each other and felt like it was enough. It was kind of validating, wasn’t it? Liberating, in a way. The occasional checking in, the questions that were asked without any real intentions behind them. The guilt that was lifted off our shoulders every time we decided to swallow our pride. How are you? Fine. What have you been up to? Not much, you? How’s work? Okay. We didn’t ask because we cared, not for the past months. We were following routines, a play, a dance we knew every step to. Both of us ignoring the truth we’d understood a while ago: we’re not what we used to be and we will never be that to each other again. And at some point, we just stopped asking altogether. The more I think about it, the more I figure out that the breaking was no fixed point in time, but a process. There was no argument. No falling out - only the slow and painful realisation that I‘d been wrapping my fingers around something that was long gone. A shadow. A memory. A ghost. I know what I would answer if you reached out to me again. How are you? Kind of sad. What have you been up to? Missing you and everything we used to be - what can we do to find our way back to each other? But you don’t ask. And I don’t ask, either.”

— radio silence / n.j.